


Mittens

by AllThatWeSeeOrSeem



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: Angst, But only a little, F/M, Fluff, Slightly Comedic (in the spirit of the show itself)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThatWeSeeOrSeem/pseuds/AllThatWeSeeOrSeem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short one-shot expanding upon the idea of winter and the benefits of mittens, as touched upon in the show. Ned's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mittens

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if this has been done before, as I'm sure it has. Either way, hope you enjoy.

Ned liked winter.

He couldn't say he was a fan of the snow, or of how the side walk in front of the Pie Hole would ice over, causing him to go through a gallon of salt just to keep the customers from falling over on their way to the door. No, but Ned loved winter. He loved the cold.

Cold meant mittens. Mittens meant holding hands with Chuck. 

It had been exactly eight months, three weeks, two days, eleven hours, and five minutes since Ned had last worn mittens. Since that time, the temperature had been altogether too warm for wearing mittens in public without getting strange looks. 

This year's mittens had been a holiday gift from Emerson Cod. A misguided gift for anyone else, but for Ned they were just the thing. If Emerson Cod had any idea just what the mittens meant to Ned, he would probably have gone with a tie instead. The mittens were thin, and not altogether too warm. They were perfect.

Chuck's mittens were also thin. She had bought them herself and they fit like...well, like a glove. They were gloves, but Ned didn't mind semantics. It was what the mittens - or gloves - were for that was important.

Ned was wearing his mittens, and Chuck hers, when they stepped out the door of the Pie Hole and onto the newly-salted side walk. Ned grasped Chuck's hand, and Chuck grasped his. Through the layers of fabric he convinced himself he could feel the fine bones of her hand as it clasped his, and he imagined what her skin must feel like, slightly roughened and chapped by the cold air. As they walked he wondered if he would eventually be able to feel the warmth of her hand seep through the mittens. 

Chuck squeezed his hand then and, if Ned had a sudden, aching wish, not for the first or even the hundredth time, that he actually could touch her without the inevitable consequences - well, he only smiled down at her and squeezed her hand in return.


End file.
